


Anima

by markwatnae (bertie)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 16:10:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5973685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bertie/pseuds/markwatnae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time a youngling develops a mark matching a Jedi Knight no one is sure what to make of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anima

**Author's Note:**

> I fudged their ages a little bit. call it artistic license.
> 
> the title is Latin for "soul"

Every Jedi has a file in the database that lists everything about them. The endless list of information includes, among others, physical features, race, height, weight, their chosen gender identity, and a photograph and description of their soulmark.

Any Jedi with matching soulmarks are automatically sorted together so their paths will cross. That is as far as the Temple goes to matchmaking.

The first time a youngling develops a mark matching a Jedi Knight no one is sure what to make of it.

When he is first notified, Qui-Gon is wary and he takes several back-to-back missions to stay away from the Temple. He is in his twenties; how can he have a soulmate who is barely ten standard years old. When his soulmate is finally past the age of majority, he will be pushing forty. When he isn’t negotiating peace treaties or overseeing inaugurations, his time is filled with thoughts of his soulmate.

Mostly, he is concerned for them. He doesn’t want to tie them down when they’re young and need the space to explore to decide for themselves who they are. But sometimes, late at night, he thinks about what it would be like to have someone resting against his chest, dozing peacefully with all their trust in him to keep them safe. He aches for someone to hold and kiss and shower with affection. His peers may see him as slightly aloof, quiet and reserved, but he knows that he would never let his soulmate want for attention.

When he finally returns for a mandatory rest period, he decides to look in on the younglings during a lightsaber class.

Some of children with simpler marks have wristbands covering them although the Temple does not require them. At this age, children can be cruel and most of them choose to cover the mark simply to keep the teasing at bay.

Yoda senses his presence and calls to the children to pause their practicing.

“Good morning, Knight Qui-Gon,” the chorus, and he smiles.

“Good morning, young ones.”

He spends the rest of his morning helping the younglings handle their sabers. He realizes he forgot how satisfying it was to nurture young minds, to be the subject of their unwavering attention.

When the class has ended, they all bow to him and he returns the gesture. One of the first lessons of becoming a Jedi is that everyone deserves equal amounts of respect even if they are below you in age or skill.

He manages to enjoy his time back at the Temple, but he is also eager to get back into the field. He is in the gardens on his last day before leaving for a mission when he hears poorly muffled sobs. Seeking out the noise, he finds a youngling curled up in an alcove of rocks. His face is flushed and tear-stained, and he looks ashamed at being found.

“It’s all right, little one. There is no reason to be ashamed for showing emotion. May I join you?”

He nods, smiling just slightly.

“What is your name?”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he answers, his voice still thick with tears.

“A very noble name. My name is Qui-Gon Jinn.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Knight Jinn,” Obi-Wan says, and Qui-Gon smiles.

“The honor is mine, I assure you. Now, tell me what is troubling you.”

Obi-Wan’s breath shudders and he looks down at his hands in his lap. His shoulders tremble as he begins to cry again. Qui-Gon rubs his back lightly to soothe him.

“The other kids said my soulmate would never love me,” he sobs.

He dissolves into hysterics, hiccupping on his cries. Qui-Gon scoops him into his arms, cradling him close to his chest as Obi-Wan tries to smother his noises in his tunics. He simply holds him, offering him comfort through words and touch. When he’s just whimpering, the tears slowed to trickle, Qui-Gon offers up his deeper thoughts.

“The other children do not know anything about your soulmate. They are simply hurting and wish for you to hurt as well. Your soulmate will love you so much you won’t know what to do with it all. What reason do they give for their statement?”

Obi-Wan sniffles, coughing out another sob. “They said they’re too old. I don’t even know who it is, but they said they’re much older and they’ll never want to be with me because I’m too young. That no one in their right mind would want to be with a child.”

His lower lip wobbles precariously and Qui-Gon smoothes his hair. Obi-Wan pushes into his touch, curling closer to his chest.

“I am positive the Force has taken great care in choosing a soulmate for you, Obi-Wan. Your soulmate will not be concerned with your age, I assure you. Anyone would be lucky to have you, and I know you will bring incredible amounts of joy to your soulmate’s life.”

Obi-Wan’s smile is shaky, but it’s enough.

“I assume your mark has no name,” Qui-Gon says, and Obi-Wan shakes his head.

“No, it doesn’t. I wish it did though. Would you like to see it?” Obi-Wan stares up at him with grey-blue eyes so full of trust he can’t bring himself to say no.

“It is your choice alone if you show me your mark, little one.”

Obi-Wan grins and pushes up the sleeve of a long-sleeved shirt he wears under his tunic. The mark that is bared to him makes Qui-Gon’s heart leap into his throat.

His little forearm is covered in crisscrossing vines with leaves sprouting off each delicate line to make up an absurdly intricate design that he knows for a fact stuns most to silence.

It is the exact same mark on Qui-Gon’s own left arm.

“It’s beautiful, Obi-Wan. Your soulmate must be very in touch with the Living Force.”

The boy’s face just brightens further. “That’s what Master Yoda said! And he’s been giving me extra lessons on the Living Force so I can be just as good as my soulmate.”

Qui-Gon finds it difficult to feel anything except complete adoration for the child in his lap. Even after the shock of finding out his soulmate is seven.

“You will be even better, I’m certain. Simply knowing they are close to the Living Force tells me that your soulmate will love you very much. They’re going to be in tune with all living things, but they will be called even closer to you. You are going to make someone very happy, Obi-Wan, never doubt that.”

“Thank you, Knight Qui-Gon. I’m sorry I got your robes all wet.”

He can’t help the laugh that bubbles up. Obi-Wan smiles shyly.

“It’s alright, my dear, they will dry. Now, let’s get you back to your proper place.”

Obi-Wan holds his hand as they walk through the Temple and Qui-Gon finds that he feels more at peace than he did even two hours before. When the arrive at the younglings’ dormitories, Obi-Wan bows deeply to him and Qui-Gon returns the gesture.

“Until next time, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he says, winking at him and delighting in the giggle he buries in his hands.

His mission goes much better than expected and he declines to take another directly afterward. He spends his time teaching classes and taking shifts sitting in the crèche at night while the children sleep. He is there to soothe away nightmares and retrieve glasses of water and stroke shivering backs until each of them is sleeping peacefully.

He feels more fulfilled than he has in years.

—x—

It feels as if a Sith is clawing out Qui-Gon’s heart when he rejects Obi-Wan. The Council forbade him from taking Obi-Wan as his Padawan, citing the fact that he is his soulmate and it would be a conflict of interests. Qui-Gon doesn’t want to trust Obi-Wan’s tender heart to any other Master. They would ruin him.

The events on Bandomeer are simply the beginning of his defiant attitude toward the Council. When he begs for Obi-Wan’s forgiveness and understanding, and then he gets that smile, it feels like he’s finally doing something right. He puts himself between Obi-Wan and the Council when they threaten to expel him from the Order. (They carefully avoid mentioning the real reason behind their objection and Qui-Gon almost feels smug. No one is allowed to tell someone the identity of their soulmate unless consent is given.)

Qui-Gon is shocked when Obi-Wan comes to stand at his side, drawn up to all his five-feet-three-inches, to defend him. His voice carries weight of someone much older than twelve, and it successfully stuns the Council into listening to him. His reasons are sound and they can’t argue without giving away information that is not theirs to tell. He grins up at Qui-Gon when they grudgingly allow their partnership and Qui-Gon feels himself falling.

When it becomes clear that they are a very skilled pair, the Council quiets completely on the matter. Qui-Gon diligently keeps his mark covered when he is around Obi-Wan, waiting for the right moment to tell him. That moment comes on Obi-Wan’s thirteenth birthday. They’re on Coruscant for a while and had a nice dinner to celebrate, and Qui-Gon doesn’t want to keep his secret from him for any longer.

Qui-Gon sits them down on the couch in the common room of their quarters, and Obi-Wan looks at him with such love and trust it’s so hard to break it for a moment.

“Obi-Wan, I need you to listen carefully to me.”

Obi-Wan nods, shifting closer and giving all his attention. Qui-Gon feels tiny under that gaze.

“When I first rejected you, I did not want to. I was forced by the Council to refuse you as my Padawan because of something very important.”

Before he can get another word out, Obi-Wan is speaking.

“You’re my soulmate.”

He blinks and struggles to recover.

“Yes,” he says, though it wasn’t a question. “How did you. . . ?”

Obi-Wan shrugs. “I always felt it. I was drawn to you every time you were around, teaching classes or watching over the babies. I always wanted to be near you, but I couldn’t. None of the crèche-masters ever explained why I felt that way, now I know they weren’t allowed. I always felt like a part of me was missing when you were away on missions.”

Qui-Gon sits in stunned silence for a moment, taking in the extraordinary young man before him.

“How do you feel about it? Speak freely, Obi-Wan, you must be honest with me.”

Another shrug.

“I guess I’m just confused about how we’re supposed to handle it. I’m not past the age of majority yet, and you’re my Master, and I don’t . . . love you in that way—yet.”

“We will handle this however we are comfortable handling it. You can ask for as little or as much as you like, within obvious boundaries.”

Obi-Wan’s cheeks flush a soft pink and Qui-Gon bites down on his smile. After a moment of silence, Obi-Wan looks up at him.

“Can I see your mark?”

Qui-Gon allows this smile to come through. “Of course.”

He rolls up his sleeve to expose his left forearm and Obi-Wan moves closer. The green vines seem to stand out starker on his lighter skin, but the pattern is identical. His skin sings when Obi-Wan brushes the pads of his fingertips over the mark.

“Now you don’t have to hide it from me anymore,” he remarks quietly.

“No, I don’t,” he replies, catching Obi-Wan’s hand to hold it gently between his. “It’s yours.”

Obi-Wan looks up at him, looking like Qui-Gon feels—exposed and naked. He shifts to lean into Qui-Gon’s side, resting his head on his shoulder.

“I love you,” comes his soft, lilting voice.

It’s like music to Qui-Gon’s aching heart, broken open and seeking its other half.

“And I love you,” he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head.

—x—

Their relationship is on the rocks when Obi-Wan catches a virus on a mission. They were on the cusp of being brothers and lovers, unable to find a comfortable common ground. But every conflicted thought on their relationship is tossed aside for worry to settle in comfortably. They get back to Coruscant as quickly as possible, but Qui-Gon has to carry him off the ship. The moment he tries to lay Obi-Wan on a bed in the Healing Ward he protests.

“No, please, don’t,” he begs, grasping for Qui-Gon’s robes.

“I’m sorry, darling, but the healers need to work. I won’t leave. I’ll be right where you can see me.”

Those watery blue eyes follow his every movement, watching him constantly as the healers try to solve their latest puzzle. Every time one of them blocks Obi-Wan’s view of his Master, Qui-Gon moves so he has a clear line of sight. It seems to comfort him because he doesn’t struggle when they bring out needles.

“It’s all right,” he soothes, over the bustle of the healers so Obi-Wan can hear him.

When they’ve finally gone, armed with their blood samples and readings, Qui-Gon can sit beside Obi-Wan and hold him. He’s barely past his sixteenth birthday and Qui-Gon doesn’t blame him for the fear in his eyes.

“You’re going to be fine, love. I promise. I won’t leave your side.” He wets a cloth in the sink and uses it to wipe the sweat off Obi-Wan’s forehead.

“What about the Council?” He asks, his voice weak and scared and absolutely ripping at Qui-Gon’s heart.

“They can come here if they need to speak with me,” he replies, giving Obi-Wan a look that says _Try me_ and gets a little smile out of him.

“Can you sit with me?”

Qui-Gon doesn’t hesitate. “Of course. Hold still.”

He eases Obi-Wan into his arms, mindful of the IV administering necessary fluids and pain relief, and slides into bed behind him. Obi-Wan settles into his favorite position, leaning back against Qui-Gon’s chest with his head resting over his heart.

“Is that better?” Qui-Gon asks, smoothing his hair back with the cloth.

“Mmm,” is all he gets in response.

“Sleep, dear one. I’ll watch over you,” he murmurs, and Obi-Wan just shifts to tuck his face against Qui-Gon’s throat.

The healers find them like that a few hours later and don’t bother asking any questions. Once it’s obvious Obi-Wan is far more relaxed this way, they practically beg Qui-Gon to stay there as long as possible. Obi-Wan had earned himself a reputation among the healers during his time at the Temple.

Qui-Gon happily stays and holds Obi-Wan through his fevers and nausea and coughing fits. He doles out his own medicine in the form of kisses and whispered sweet nothings that keep Obi-Wan calm and comforted. When his fever ends, the pain sets in. His bones ache and his muscles protest every movement. He cries when he rests against Qui-Gon’s chest, but it’s far better than the bed itself. His illness is not deadly and the symptoms are treatable, but it must be allowed to run its course.

They lie there in the bed in the Healing Ward and Qui-Gon tells stories to keep them occupied. He has Tahl, his closest friend, bring them things from their quarters to read or do. When the nights stretch out infinitely and Obi-Wan is unable to sleep, Qui-Gon sings to him. He has learned many songs on his travels and some of them even manage to soothe Obi-Wan enough to sleep.

Coming out on the other side of the illness is like breathing a sigh of relief. Obi-Wan is finally strong enough to shower though it saps all his energy. Qui-Gon helps him redress and crawl into bed and he sits in front of him to plait his Padawan braid. Obi-Wan watches him with unmasked love and affection, those stormy blue eyes finally clear and focused.

When he finishes, Qui-Gon cups his hands around Obi-Wan’s cheeks and kisses him softly on the forehead. Obi-Wan returns the gesture, tilting his face down to press his chapped lips to Qui-Gon’s forehead.

They play a game of sabacc until Obi-Wan can’t keep his eyes open. Qui-Gon rubs his back as he dozes, finally slipping under easily.

—x—

Qui-Gon listens to Obi-Wan’s labored breathing and smiles.

“What are you smiling about?” He asks, accusatory.

“Just admiring the fact that I haven’t lost my touch,” he preens, and doesn’t stop the pillow Obi-Wan hits him with.

“Self-centered old man,” he pants.

Qui-Gon sits up. “Self-centered? After what I just did?”

Obi-Wan is grinning at him. His auburn hair is longer now, messy and disheveled and gorgeous. Every bit of him is gorgeous. He is far less lanky than he was in his teens and his muscles fill out his frame very nicely. Obi-Wan runs his left hand through his hair, ostentatiously flashing his mark.

“I don’t know, I think most of that was for your enjoyment,” he says. “I think you like having your fingers inside me more than I do.”

They move seamlessly as Qui-Gon covers Obi-Wan’s body with his own. Muscular legs curl around his hips like they were made to be there and then lips slot together perfectly.

“I like this much better,” Obi-Wan croons, stroking Qui-Gon’s face where his beard is now cropped short.

He doesn’t respond, simply kisses him again and relishes in the way his body goes slack but his vocal chords work overtime. Obi-Wan makes the sweetest sounds, quiet and pleading like he can’t get enough. He threads his fingers through Qui-Gon’s hair and hums pleasantly, smiling into their kiss.

“I love you,” Obi-Wan says, the words spoken softly against his lips.

“And I love you.”


End file.
